Masquerade
by periodically chlorinated
Summary: Season 2 Halloween through New Years - Tricks end up being treats...as only Abby can fashion. AU Gabby.
1. Chapter 1

Happy Halloween! I live 364 days anticipating this holiday and I am fairly certain Abby does too. So, I present this tricky literary treat for your enjoyment…

Timeframe – Season 2, AU

Episode Tags – 1x14 Good Samaritan

Paring – Abby/Gibbs

Rating – M for smexiness and a bit of language

Disclaimer – I own nothing, all credit to the great and mighty Bellisario/CBS peoples.

* * *

"How many times do I have to tell you, Gibbs? When I say it will take three hours, I actually mean three. Not two and a half, not two and three quarters. _Three_. It's not like I can convince my babies to analyze samples any faster. Remember how it ended the last time you needed a rush job, and I tried reconfiguring the filament and it fried the entire electrical system on the Major? I'm pretty sure Director Morrow is still in shock over the expense report from that one."

The perturbed expression on Abby's face did nothing to prevent Gibbs from moving into her personal space. "Doesn't change the fact that I need that evidence now."

"Doesn't change the fact that it won't be ready for another three hours," she retorted, crossing her arms defiantly as she leaned back against her lab table.

This was not a novel conversation for them. Gibbs knew that Abby was telling the truth about her timeframe, but his investigation currently hinged on identifying the substance found under the victim's fingernails. Which apparently would take another three hours.

Sighing, Gibbs stepped back and reconciled himself to waiting. Abby slipped around him and began tinkering with the console of one of her instruments. She was barely at it for more than a few seconds when her shoulders twitched and her hands stilled.

"Wanna find a fun way to pass the time?"

With Abby, 'fun' was oftentimes a dangerous term, so he cautiously asked, "What'cha have in mind, Abbs?"

She swiveled around, her skirt swirling about her hips and her hands raised. "Well, I've got a pack of cards in my desk. Dare to take me on in a few hands of poker? After all, you did say that we should play some time."

Gibbs merely cocked his head.

"Or we could make it _really_ interesting and play strip poker," Abby suggested with a sly smile.

He shot her an exasperated look and she just shrugged her shoulders. "Ordinary old poker it is. Better watch it, Gibbs; I'll clean you out."

Realizing there was nothing else to do in the meantime but take Abby up on her offer, Gibbs stood by as she cleared the lab table and began to deal.

An hour and several hands later, Gibbs had reached two conclusions. First, Abby was disturbingly good at bluffing. And second, they were quite evenly matched. That is, they had been until this hand.

"Coming up a bit short, eh, Gibbs?" she teased, cheekily.

He held Abby's gaze evenly, still trying to catch any indications of a tell. All his years as an investigator, all those interrogations, and he still could not determine if the forensic scientist was pulling a fast one. He was perplexed and moderately disconcerted. Had Abby always been so good at bluffing? What else had she hidden from him? It was beginning to frustrate him. That, and the fact that he was out of cash on his best hand of the night.

A grin crept across Abby's face. "Care to add something that's not on the table?"

Genuinely curious, he leaned back on his stool and pulled his cards toward his chest. "Like what?"

The grin morphed into a full smile, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Well, I am co-hosting a Halloween party at Amelia's house this year, and –"

"No," he cut her off. "I don't do parties."

Undeterred, Abby tried again. "You would only have to come for an hour."

Gibbs narrowed his eyes.

"Come on, Gibbs," she persisted. "We both know you think you have the superior hand. What've you got to lose?"

A pattern of her behavior over the last hour finally fell into place in his mind; her taunting had always come whenever she bluffed. Most especially when she gambled the biggest.

Confidently, he questioned, "And what'll you raise me?"

Abby pulled another bunch of bills from her pocket and purposefully placed them on top of the pile of cash, then raised her eyebrows. "Show 'em, then."

He paused, and then tipped his cards forward.

She hummed in recognition. "Full house, nice."

When she made no move to reveal her hand, Gibbs prompted her, "Time to pay the piper, Abbs."

A positively gleeful expression covered Abby's face. "Guess I should be saying the same to you." She tossed her hand onto the table and leaned forward onto her elbows.

Gibbs' gut sank as he realized she had bluffed her way to a straight flush. He looked back up and into Abby's vibrant green eyes.

"Can't wait to see your costume, Gibbs."

* * *

A/N: Yep, this one is a bit short. But it is intended to set the stage…the next few will be longer.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: And this next chapter comes just in time for the actual day…which is convenient because Abby's party takes place on Halloween as well. Enjoy!

I have no beta, so all mistakes are the result of my sleep-deprived, grad student brain.

* * *

Gibbs adjusted the handkerchief around his neck apprehensively as he eyed the well-lit house across the street. Costumed silhouettes moved past the windows on the lower and upper levels of the large, colonial-style structure. The size and styling of the house made Gibbs wonder how Abby had met her friend and what Amelia did for a living to be able to afford such a sizable homestead in one of the wealthier D.C. suburbs. And judging from the number of people passing and standing by the windows, it was likely to be a lively party.

"Only for Abby," he grumbled under his breath as he picked up the Stetson from his passenger seat and closed the door. His costume was simple, purposefully chosen because it had required little preparation and he did not feel too ridiculous wearing it. And a small part of him enjoyed knowing that if Mike Franks were here, he would find humor in Gibbs' choice.

Crossing the street, he offered a friendly smile as he passed a father being led down the sidewalk by a tiny princess in a pale blue dress. The fond smile was rapidly replaced by a wince of regret, long-past memories surfacing; of Shannon patterning and sewing costumes for Kelly, him proudly walking her house to house as his little girl showed off his wife's handiwork to all the neighbors and gleefully collected candy. The few times he was home for Halloween, they had made it a tradition to take a day trip out of D.C. to a country farm pumpkin patch. He and Shannon had watched, bemused, as each year Kelly picked a pumpkin slightly too large and heavy for her to carry out of the field on her own. And each year, she would eventually call for him to help her, and he would swing her up on his shoulders and carry the oversized pumpkin all the way back to the car, Shannon teasing Kelly the whole way about her eyes being bigger than her muscles.

A pair of adults dressed as mummies stepped onto the sidewalk in front of him, disrupting his trail of memories, reminding him of his purpose this Halloween. All he needed to do was find Abby within the hour, show her he had kept his side of the bet, and then return home to his boat.

He followed the toilet-paper wrapped party-goers down the front walk, observing that the house was all glammed up for the evening with fake spider webs and jack-o-lanterns, plenty of streamers and festive lights. Stepping though the open, oversized entryway, his ears were immediately assaulted by the sound of people talking, nearly drowning out the noise of Abby's sort of music. Multi-colored costumes and body-painted skin on people in various states of dress and undress, moved in and out of the entryway with a traffic pattern only known to them. The dueling odors of baked goods and burning candles followed him as he began to walk through the ground floor, automatically beginning to scan the crowd for Abby and anyone else he recognized.

He spotted DiNozzo first, his tall SFA dressed as a pirate, complete with an eye-patch and hook. As he approached the corner DiNozzo occupied, he realized that the female standing next to him, dressed as an aristocratic vampire, was Kate.

"Boss? Didn't know you were gonna be here," greeted DiNozzo, Kate mirroring his astounded expression.

With a short exhale, Gibbs explained, "Didn't plan on it, but Abby insisted."

DiNozzo smirked. "Yeah, when she threatens you with the whole 'I can kill you without leaving any evidence' speech, you generally accept her invitation, no matter how scary. Because I'm pretty sure the wrath of Abby is always ultimately a lot scarier than whatever she could potentially get you into."

"Yeah," chimed in Kate, "I was actually sort of surprised to see you here, Tony. After all your whining about bad Halloween experiences, I thought you'd be home, waiting on a pair of scantily-clad 'nurses' to make you feel better."

"Well, there's still time for you to go home and change," responded DiNozzo with a grin.

"Oh yeah, Tony," retorted Kate, sarcasm cutting through her voice, "We should have coordinated so that I could show up as your pirate wench instead."

Tony smirked until Gibbs shot him a look and asked, "Have you seen Abby?"

"Earlier, when things were just getting started she was by the front door. But," Kate gestured toward a back room, "I did see her in the kitchen ten minutes ago." Gibbs scanned the horde of costumed people in the same general direction but did not see anyone fitting her general profile.

"Wouldn't want to miss her in that costume, probably couldn't if you tried," added DiNozzo, looking slightly guilty when Gibbs turned back and narrowed his eyes. The SFA quickly segued with, "You've got a nice costume though, Boss. Sort of fits your aesthetic, the whole 'live by the law but still my own man' thing. All you need is a sheriff's badge and you're in business. Not that you aren't already in business now. And of course, I'd be your deputy. The loyal, trusted right-hand man who – " His ramble abruptly ceased as Gibbs lightly cuffed the back of his head. "Sorry, Boss."

"Right," responded Kate, derisively. "We would all benefit from that arrangement."

DiNozzo made a face and then looked past her, exclaiming, "Ahoy, maties! Probie ho."

Gibbs turned his head to the left and watched his youngest agent approach, wearing some sort of green tunic and pointed hat, carrying a blue and red shield.

DiNozzo's brow furrowed as he looked the younger man up and down. "What're you supposed to be, a fairy? Peter Pan? A forest dwarf?"

"No, actually I'm Link from Hyrule in The Legend of Zelda video games," explained McGee, turning to nod at Gibbs and greeting him with, "Hi, Boss."

"Isn't Link a girl?" interjected DiNozzo.

"Actually, that is a common misconception." corrected McGee. "Zelda is the princess – "

"Oh, so you're a princess now, McGee?" Kate chimed in, brushing her bangs away from her pale face.

The younger man slowly began to flush. "No, I'm the character who rescues the princess."

"Fine, McGamer, whatever. Doesn't change the fact that you're in a shirt-dress. Did your mommy sew that for you?" taunted DiNozzo.

"No, Tony. I made it myself," reported McGee, proudly.

The SFA's eyebrows rose. "Oh, so you sew now. Sounds pretty girly to me."

McGee began to pout. "Why is it that when Abby wears cosplay you don't say anything?"

"Because girls look hot when they get all geeky," explained DiNozzo looping his fingers through the sash at his waist and rocking back on his heels. "It's just nerdy and sad when a guy does it."

"Cosplay is a legitimate form of performance art, Tony," argued McGee. "Just because you don't have any sort of appreciation for art doesn't mean you should insult those who do."

Sensing an imminent, intense debate over a subject holding no interest for him, Gibbs moved away from his team and toward the kitchen, looking for Abby once more.

Thirty minutes later, he had sampled the overly-spiked punch, tried a cookie (Abby's baking handiwork evident in the intricately sugar-frosted skulls), and scanned the crowd non-stop for Abby. Twice, he had been certain he had found her, once as a cat and another time in a Victorian-era ball gown. But despite temporarily meeting back up with his team, and inquiring after Abby, he was no closer to finding the party's co-host.

With a sigh and another glance at his watch, he resigned himself to searching for her on the second floor. Climbing the stairs, he avoided a few overtly lascivious couples and the line for the bathroom by slipping down the dark hallway where black lights provided the only illumination. He tried a couple of doorknobs, but found them mostly locked or the rooms empty. His ears picked up on murmured, amorous declarations from behind two of the locked doors. With a slight smirk, he realized that this is where the 'action' for the evening was taking place.

The sudden thought of Abby within one of those rooms did strange things to his gut, so he nearly missed the familiar prickling feeling warning him of an ambush.

He was only half turned toward the stairs to assess the situation when someone distinctly female pushed him against the nearest open door. She kissed him with no foreplay, her tongue forcing its way into his mouth. Pulling his hat down over his eyes, she pushed him into the room, and he allowed her to do so, the spontaneity of the moment suspending his usually cautious behavior. He heard the door close behind them, and then she shoved him against it, pulling his handkerchief aside so she could alternately lick and suck his pulse point.

The distinctive sound of her locking the door prompted him to start searching for a light switch, but she batted his hand away, grabbing his other hand instead and placing it on her breast. She leaned forward so he was palming it and started rubbing her body against his torso. While he was occupied with cupping her breast, she brought his other hand onto her ass and tipped her head back with a low moan when he gently squeezed and pulled her hips closer to his groin.

There was just enough light for him to get the sense of his mystery woman's outline (strong, lean, taller than average, with straight, red hair) and a feel for the room (some sort of exercise room because he observed a treadmill and some free weights stacked in a rack along one wall), but no idea of her identity. Her costume was similarly a mystery; it had some kind of cape and a short skirt, but he could not tell the color or cut. Had she mistaken him for someone else she was supposed to be meeting? His own costume was not very cryptic, but the light in the hallway had been extremely low, potentially leading to mistaken identity. He opened his mouth to ask, but as if she sensed his uncertainty, she knocked his hat off and began to run her fingers through his hair, moving up his jaw until she was kissing him hard once more.

Encouraged by her unrestrained actions, Gibbs could not help but rub his thumbs along the tops of her breasts and then down onto her nipples. She reached down and started to trace the perimeter of his cock with her finger, then added another finger to run down the middle. He groaned into her mouth and slowed the movement of his hands along the outside edges of her breasts as she rubbed up and down his length. His mystery woman then hastily pulled away from him and led him down onto a spongy exercise mat covering the floor. It yielded to his knees as she similarly kneeled in front of him, returning her talented fingers to his groin to begin unzipping him.

Gibbs had not fucked the red-head who often kept him company in a while. This woman, who had already freed his cock and was pumping it with one hand, had no idea of how aroused he was. Any questions about her identity or motivations were gone, replaced by a longing to orgasm with her wrapped around him. He pulled at her costume, desperate to be inside of her. Responding to his need, she pushed down on his shoulders until he was lying back on the mat, then straddled him.

She shimmied up her skirt and unceremoniously sunk down onto him. Both of them exhaled in short bursts, before she began to ride him, her rhythm neither frenzied nor languid. His arousal began to slowly crescendo, but he was distracted when she started to use her own fingers to play with her clit. In response, he grabbed her ass and forced her down onto him, increasing the pace.

He was moments away from completion when she reached between them and squeezed the base of his cock, holding onto it as his orgasm hit. Through the pleasure of his release, he felt himself stay hard and he could barely recover from that realization before she put her fingers from her clit into his mouth and let him suck the moisture off of them. The pure sexuality of that action spurred him to flip her over and he began fucking her with an unrestrained intensity.

In response, his mystery woman pulled his face down to her own to thrust her tongue into his mouth as he thrust his cock into her. He trailed wet kisses down her cheek and to the edge of the fabric from her costume covering her neck, grabbing the back of her neck as leverage as he continued to pound into her. Not to be left out, she dug her heels into his lower back, leveraging her hips up into him as he pushed down into her. And then, like hot lightning, he came; her teeth sunk into his collarbone as she too found release.

She pushed up on his shoulder, flipping him onto his back and she followed his movement. Unexpectedly, his mystery woman tucked her chin into his side and gently stroked his chest, the tenderness of the action in stark contrast to their frantic movement moments before.

He reached his hand out to brush the hair from her face in order to determine the identity of his partner, and his fingers unintentionally got caught in her hair. Trying to remove his hand gently, he suddenly realized that she was wearing a wig. The moment it started to move away from her scalp, his mystery woman panicked, scrambling away from him, holding the wig to her head.

"Wait," Gibbs called out in a rough voice. But she did not turn back, like she was fleeing, the locked door barely hindering her escape.

His own satiety delayed his time to the door, so nothing but an empty hallway greeted him, his mystery woman gone.

* * *

A/N: Trick or treat…

Thank you so very much for everyone who has read, followed, and favorited. Special thanks to those who have reviewed!


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Do you really want to read through my list of reasons why it took so ridiculously long for me to update this? Nope, didn't think so.

Also, no beta…so all mistakes/typos belong to me.

* * *

_Soft finger pads gently pressed against his mouth as warm lips ghosted down the center of his chest. He exhaled slowly and allowed his eyes to lazily close, feeling her skin pressing against his with unhurried precision. The sensation of her tongue swirling around his belly button had his hands involuntarily clenching and then releasing. Slowly…teasingly…she leveraged herself up his body, her breasts coming to rest on his stomach, her other arm curled under his shoulder. A series of open-mouthed kisses led her to his nipple, which she wrapped her lips around and laved. With a happy sigh, she moved further north, her teeth scraping delicately over his clavicle. He sucked one of her fingers into his mouth, his ribcage expanding with his inhalation, pressing her breasts flush against his torso. She gasped and then giggled as she withdrew her finger and cheekily bopped him on the nose with it. His eyes flew open and he lifted his head at the characteristic sound of her laughter. Her face briefly flashed into his sightline, but the red hair he hoped for was instead a color he simultaneously dreaded and desired. And the distinctively familiar eye color sent alarm signals racing from his brain to resonate throughout every cell in his body._

With a start, Gibbs was pulled from his fantasy and back into the lifeless bullpen. To the casual observer, it would have looked like he was glaring at his computer, frustrated at it for being inherently uncooperative so early in the morning. But in reality, he was internally furious with himself for objectifying Abby, for replacing his Halloween mystery woman with her. Again.

In the two weeks since the party, he had rerun the events of that evening through his mind hundreds of times, searching for clues. That night he had quickly redressed himself to begin a manic search of the hallway, the stairs, and every room on the ground floor for a woman with a cape and a red wig. Eventually, he had run into McGee, who had unhelpfully informed him that Abby had left a while ago on an alcohol run with one of the other party-goers and that Tony was trying to convince Kate to bob for apples in the kitchen. Too distracted by his mystery woman, Gibbs had decided to catch up with Abby the next day instead of waiting around for her to return. And he felt no need to announce his departure to anyone else, so he had simply walked out. He spent the night under his boat still in his costume, with the taste of his mystery woman lingering in his mouth, unwilling to allow bourbon to erase it.

The fantasies and memories of the unknown woman had beleaguered him since that night. And not knowing who he had slept with had initially perturbed him. But that was not an unfamiliar feeling, and he fully expected to get over it in short course. After all, he had previously used sex as a means to complete missions and had no problem remaining emotionally detached; why should this case be any different?

It was Abby becoming the unwitting star of his fantasies that had begun to dismantle his psyche. It had happened gradually; his fantasy woman had red hair the first few times, then it darkened into Abby's characteristic black. By the time the case protecting Lt. Commander Shields had rolled around, the last remnants of the red-head had faded away. The eyes were the worst part, though. There was no other color more defining than Abby's, making it impossible for him to pretend it was anyone other than her he was taking advantage of in his dreams.

Despite having just solved the history lesson with Corporal Yost, with Thanksgiving and a major MTAC operation on the horizon, plus another series of pointless workplace etiquette seminars, Gibbs knew none of it was going to provide a sufficient distraction from his inappropriate desires.

Speaking to the subject of his distraction had only exacerbated his problem. Abby had seemed preoccupied when he had shown up the day after the party with a Caf Pow! and assurances that he had in fact attended her party. He had briefly wondered after her behavior that day, but had been so focused on ridding himself of his inappropriate thoughts that he had mostly forgotten in the interim.

Partially driving Gibbs' guilt was the fact that it was not like he had never wanted Abby in that way. Or fantasized about her…thoroughly and vividly. But it was the intense frequency of these latest images that was truly consternating. So to spare her from his lechery, he had been spending minimal time in her lab, only visiting when she called with results and not sticking around for any excess chatting. This ordinarily would have had her chasing him down within twenty-four hours, demanding to know why he was 'withholding love', as DiNozzo would describe it. But Abby had seemed preoccupied with lab work and whatever other causes she regularly championed over the last few weeks. He hoped it was just her usual excitement over the upcoming holiday season.

But perhaps, he speculated with a sour grimace, she had a new boyfriend that was dominating all of her spare time. Or it was a re-flame of her thing with McGee. His gut churned.

His musings were interrupted by DiNozzo and Kate's arrival. As the pair settled into their desks, he observed Kate out of the corner of his eye as she critically evaluated his senior field agent.

"You're acting awfully subdued this morning, Tony," she offered.

DiNozzo mumbled, "My 90-year-old Polish neighbor decided to gift me with a plate of leftover homemade kolaches last night." He rubbed along his jawline with a hand as he exaggeratedly yawned. "The resulting sugar coma was a bit unanticipated."

Kate eyed his noticeably rumpled attire. "Did your shirt participate in the coma, too?"

"What?" DiNozzo's voice went up an octave as he looked down at the offending article of clothing and hastily tried to smooth out the worst of the wrinkles.

"Oh, nothing. And you know you should be careful about excess consumption of simple sugars. They can contribute to 'middle-aged man gut syndrome', especially this time of year."

DiNozzo's focus immediately left his attire, his body language and intonation bordering on affronted. "Hey, don't start that again."

Kate began flipping through case files, responding offhandedly, "Just concerned about your health."

"Yeah, right," snorted DiNozzo, as he pulled a stack of reports to the center of his desk.

"You're just still upset that your latest mile time increased by twelve seconds, while mine improved by seven."

DiNozzo did not even look up from the file he was perusing, but his tone was anything but casual. "It was an off-day."

Gibbs tuned out Kate's predictably sarcastic response, observing McGee's timely arrival and subsequent inclusion into the conversation. Today was a paperwork day, so as long as his agents were making progress and not distracting him, he did not care if they chatted, semi-amicably. He focused on his own work, spending the morning clearing his physical inbox, ignoring the electronic one, per usual.

A glance at his watch cued his stomach hours later, and he decided that continuing to avoid Abby would only send up red flags. Plus, it was not her fault that his libido was overactive lately. With a glance at his occupied agents, Gibbs rose from his chair and grabbed his jacket from the back, heading toward the elevator. It was time to check in on his favorite forensic scientist.

* * *

Abby was in her ballistics lab when he arrived, sporting her safety glasses and skull-decorated ear protection, pumping shots into rifling gel. She glanced over as he approached and signed '_Two more minutes, my silver-haired fox_', then waved enthusiastically and resumed firing. He stifled a grin and leaned forward onto her lab table, resting his chin in the palm of his hand. Too often he only came to Abby's lab for case-related results and spent little time actually checking in with her. And he almost never had the pleasure of just watching her work…few people in the world were so totally enamored with their vocation. And even fewer could maintain their affability in the face of such single-minded devotion. Abby was pure brilliance wrapped in an absolutely gorgeous package. Watching her process evidence was like watching a dancer throw themself into a career-making performance every single time.

Which was of course the last thing he should be indulging in at the moment. With a reluctant sigh, he pushed back from the table and made an attempt to examine the usual array of knickknacks littering her shelves, instead of the tempting woman ten feet away. Fortunately there was plenty for him to look at; a tube of mohawk gel, a blue voodoo doll, and metallic king and queen chess pieces were recent additions to the collection around the computer monitor. Several small bottles labeled 'Caf Pow! Shot' littered the area around the keyboard, prompting Gibbs to raise his eyebrows. Sometimes he wondered just how Abby was able to out-caffeinate him without crashing more often. Next to her microscope was a massive stack of horoscope magazines, which were sitting atop a box from a local organic, vegetarian pizzeria, so at least that meant she was supplementing her caffeine with sustenance. He picked up the top magazine and flipped to dog-eared page, an article entitled 'Live Your Dream: How to Use Your Guiding Planet to Get Your Man'.

_With the holidays approaching, solitary situations can leave you feeling as though you have been neglected by the universal energy. However, through identification and application of the influence of your guiding planet, it is possible for you to capture the man of your dreams. Refer to the chart on the opposing page to determine which of the nine guiding planets you are aligned with. Special caution: if your planet is Mars and you are also an Ares, be sure to -_

The only warning he had before Abby collided with him for a rib-crushing hug was the light scuffing of her clunky boots on the lab floor.

Abby's voice was muffled as she pressed herself into his frame. "Gibbs!"

He was not sure whether or not to return the hug, his recent imaginings fresh on his mind. But Gibbs did not want to risk hurt feelings by rebuffing her. So, he dropped the horoscope magazine on her lab table, tentatively closing the embrace and resting his cheek against the top of her head. She sank further into the hug and Gibbs allowed himself to indulge in a moment of weakness, gently tracing circles on her shoulder blades.

"I haven't seen you in a while…even Bert was telling me the other day that it'd been too long since my favorite special agent visited my domain."

She abruptly pulled back and looked at him with wide eyes. "Did I forget to process a piece of evidence? I didn't think you had any active cases." Quickly, Abby added with her hands, '_I am so sorry_!'

"No, Abbs," Gibbs reassured, lamenting the loss of the comfort of her cuddling. "Just came down to see if you had lunch plans."

Abby grinned, her eyes sparkling as she brought her hands together in front of her torso. "Yes! I mean, no, I don't have any plans." She skipped over to her desk. "Lunch with you would be great! There's that new Thai restaurant that Kate has been raving about that we could try. Or our usual haunt is always good." Having retrieved her bag out of a drawer, she looked up and asked as she gestured toward the lab table, "By the way, how'd you like that article?"

"You believe this stuff, Abbs?" he questioned skeptically, picking up the magazine again and frowning down at the overly-stylized, loopy font and abundance of symbology.

With a mysterious smile, Abby grabbed her studded jacket off of her coat rack. "And if I do? You know, it's always important to know which celestial bodies are in retrograde and how the moon phases will affect your future." She pulled on the jacket, and then dropped both her voice and her eyes. "Sometimes it's the only way I can keep from totally wigging out when you and the rest of the team insist on putting yourselves in perpetual danger."

Remorse temporarily twinged his gut. "Abbs."

She looked up. "I know, I know…it's all in the job description. Doesn't mean I've gotta like it though." Abby hesitated before signing, '_But I will always worry because I care._'

Gibbs stepped forward and responded with, '_Same here, my girl_', deliberately tracing his thumb slowly along her cheek for the final sign.

He could not help but notice that Abby's eyelids fluttered briefly as he touched her, and Gibbs maintained contact by placing his hand on her lower back as they stepped out the door. She locked up her lab while he called for the elevator.

'_Ready_?' inquired Abby, offering him her arm as the elevator doors opened.

Nodding once, he linked his arm through hers and they stepped onboard. Pressing the button for the parking garage, Gibbs glanced over at his scientist as something dawned on him.

"You feeling alright, Abbs?" He watched her face carefully as she looked over and replied, "Of course. Why?"

"Been feeling sick at all?"

Abby scrunched up her nose, then answered slowly, "No, healthy and happy as a gator in a Louisiana bayou."

He made a noncommittal sound and turned back toward the elevator doors as the lift began moving. Abby started to list off potential lunching locations with complete menu options, but Gibbs was preoccupied with his observation.

In the last five minutes, Abby had signed to him four times, which was not unusual when they were around other people. Sign language had always been like a game between them, their own secret method of communication. But when they were alone, they rarely signed. And the more he thought about it, he realized that Abby had been signing to him with increasing frequency as of late, especially when it was just the two of them.

Now if only he could figure out what that meant.

* * *

A/N: And no list of excuses here either, just earnest intent not to leave this fic unfinished.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Thanks to all who were forgiving of my absence and read/reviewed/favorited/alerted. Also, I realize I am taking some liberties here with canon, but I did say this story was AU, so that should cover my six.

Spoilers up to and including 2x08 – Heart Break

* * *

"A toast, my dear friends, to family and the wonderful occasions when they can enjoy one another's company over such a festive and sumptuous meal."

"Hear, hear!" came the chorus from around the Thanksgiving table as everyone lifted their glasses in agreement with the ME's declaration. Everyone, that was, except for Mrs. Mallard. She was busy shooting them scowls from suspicion-laden eyes from her end of the dining room table.

Abby was unfortunately seated next to her, but Gibbs supposed that Ducky had done that on purpose, as the forensic scientist had infinite patience. Palmer was on Mrs. Mallard's other side, also enduring the worst of her criticism. Everyone had been interrogated on their entry to the house as to their intentions on 'Donald', Abby brushing off the awkwardness the easiest of anyone. She had smoothly handed off her casserole to a stunned McGee and hugged the elder Mallard, assuring pure intentions from the lot of them.

"Ducky, you doing the honors?" inquired DiNozzo, gesturing toward the turkey at the end of the table.

Picking up the carving tools, the ME began to work on the turkey in the meticulous manner that reminded Gibbs of how the older man approached an autopsy. "Did you know, Anthony, that the turkey was not actually a serious contender to be the national bird of the United States? That is an oft-reinforced myth. Although Benjamin Franklin was the one who suggested the turkey, he did not actually publicly voice his opposition to the current symbol, the bald eagle."

DiNozzo raised his eyebrows. "Did not know that. But I promise it will in no way prevent me from enjoying this particular Turkey Tom."

A derisive snort from Kate sitting to DiNozzo's left did not deter Ducky from continuing. "In fact, he only wrote about his displeasure in a letter to his daughter, criticizing the choice of such a 'bird of bad moral character'. I imagine that Mr. Franklin would be disappointed by the multifarious ways in which the eagle has been incorporated into the –"

"Donald!" Mrs. Mallard's jarring exclamation made McGee drop the gravy spoon back into the boat.

Ducky responded exasperatedly as he continued carving, "Yes, Mother?"

"Who are all these poorly-groomed people?" She glared at Abby's turkey skeleton t-shirt and Palmer's messy hair, and then pointed a stern finger at her son. "Are you hosting a malapropos soiree?"

"No, Mother," the ME responded firmly, "These are my colleagues from work and we are celebrating Thanksgiving dinner together, you included."

Mrs. Mallard did not seem affronted by her son's shortness, but pursed her lips as she informed the table, "Well, as long as they do not take the silver, like that tricky maid you hired."

"The maid did not appropriate the silver," corrected Ducky, placing the first cuts of meat onto Kate's offered plate. "You hid all of it in your duvet and then bemoaned the cacophonous state of your bedding until the maid you had so adamantly accused of thievery discovered your prevarication."

Gibbs observed several attempts around the table to stifle grins as Mrs. Mallard sputtered indignantly under her breath about malcontents and miscreants.

Picking up on the need for a new conservation topic, Abby spoke up. "So, erm, these homemade mashed potatoes are divine, just as advertised, Timmy." She swiped a fluffy bite from her plate using a finger and popped it into her mouth.

McGee swallowed audibly as he and every male agent in the room watched Abby's finger withdraw slowly from between her ruby-painted lips. Gibbs resisted the strong urge to head slap the young agent sitting next to him, instead focusing on the self-assured smile Abby was sporting.

"Uh, I, uh…um."

Abby shrugged her shoulders, immune to McGee's discomfort. "Well, I totally expect you to give it to me later. In fact, to be fair, I'll return the favor."

McGee's glanced over at Gibbs with wide, panicked eyes before turning back toward Abby. "Uh, what?"

"We should swap recipes. You did ask for my Grammy Sciuto's secret to the perfect pie crust." With a wide smile, Abby gestured toward the table. "Now, stop hogging the gravy. Pass it around. Hungry people here, especially Tony."

Feigning hurt, the SFA placed a hand over his heart. "A DiNozzo knows the value of good food. And good people."

"Cheers to that. Now, please dig in and pass your plates for some turkey," encouraged Ducky, grabbing Gibbs' plate and piling on a generous helping of roasted bird.

"Wow, Abby's right, McGee. Not bad," complimented Kate, politely placing her hand over her mouth as she finished chewing and swallowed.

"He probably got the recipe from one of those girly food magazines, like Good Housekeeping," interjected DiNozzo, testily.

Palmer perked up. "I subscribe to that, too. Really great articles on the latest essential kitchen gadgets for healthy eating, you know. The last issue had an especially detailed method for pureeing soups and dips using an immersion blender."

DiNozzo sniggered, commenting cockily, "Oh, that explains a lot." Palmer blinked repeatedly and opened his mouth to reply, then seemed to think better of it. "Give those here…let me decide whether or not they are worthy of such praise." DiNozzo reached over Kate's plate to grab the mashed potatoes, receiving a slap on the hand.

"Didn't your parents teach you any table manners? God, you're such a child sometimes." griped Kate, rolling her eyes at DiNozzo's smug grin.

Gibbs spent most of the meal covertly observing Abby redirect Mrs. Mallard's ongoing commentary on the Goth's appearance and unfortunate resemblance to someone named 'Gloria'. Throughout it all, the forensic scientist remained cheerful, complimenting the elder woman's attire and asking polite questions about her youth. This mostly disarmed Mrs. Mallard, allowing the meal to progress in good humor.

He had been particularly tuned to Abby's behavior over the last few weeks, ever since their lunch date. She had been watching him more than usual lately, with unprecedented scrutiny. Several times in the bullpen he had felt her eyes lingering on him while she chatted with his team. And she had been asking personal questions more frequently during his visits to her lab, inquiring after his weekend plans.

He was starting to feel like a piece of evidence. The persistence of the one-on-one signing had him further perplexed. Any attempts to elucidate the situation were met with coy smiles and deflections. Abby was strategizing, and just like their poker game, he was uncertain of the full stakes or if she was bluffing.

Many complaints of full stomachs later, a giddy DiNozzo asked if it was time for pumpkin pie. Palmer groaned, but volunteered to help Abby and Kate clear the plates, while DiNozzo and McGee gave Ducky a hand with bringing the remaining food into the kitchen. Gibbs was asked to keep an eye on Mrs. Mallard, who was occupied with sending him amorous glances.

Everyone else was still in the kitchen when Abby returned to the dining room to retrieve the last of the dishes. Gibbs started to hand her his plate, but Abby leaned over his shoulder instead. He felt her warm breath on his ear as she whispered silkily, "Do you want whipped cream on your pie, Gibbs?"

He turned his head until his cheek nearly brushed against hers. "Ya think?"

"Or, maybe there was something else sweet you were craving this evening?"

Gibbs decided to play along, trying to keep his heat rate under control. "What'd you have in mind?"

"Maybe something you saw during dinner?" The overtly-flirtatious tenor to her voice was tantalizing him in all the wrong ways.

He teased back. "Well, Ducky's mother is certainly looking rather ravishing tonight."

As if prompted, Mrs. Mallard broke the not-unwelcome tension, shrilly commanding, "Leonard, bring me a drink!"

With a low chuckle, Abby hugged him from behind, her chin coming to rest on his shoulder as her arms wrapped around his torso. Gibbs inhaled reflexively, breathing in Abby's gunpowder-rich scent.

"I'm glad you came tonight, Gibbs," she murmured.

"Yeah?" he responded. Most holidays he preferred isolation and the solitude of his basement to social gatherings, of which Abby was quite aware. But the pleasure of having her arms around him was reinforcing the idea that he should get out more.

Her answer was barely more than a sigh. "Yep."

Then with a quick squeeze, Abby released him and grabbed his plate, sashaying off to the kitchen. Watching the sway of her hips in her black leather skirt was bringing forward all sorts of inappropriate thoughts. His nights had continued to be peppered with fantasy Abby, despite his best efforts to exhaust himself with his boat before bed to thwart dreaming. He had briefly considered that identifying his mystery woman might solve his problem. But despite his faith in his investigative skills, the thought of potentially tipping anyone off to his interest in a woman wearing a red wig was loathsome. All of this uncertainty was becoming aggravating and he was losing more sleep than usual because of something over which he had little control.

Leaving him one frustrated Marine.

Which was how he stayed through the dessert course and into after dinner drinks. McGee and Palmer begged off after one drink. Abby followed shortly thereafter, announcing she needed to leave early so that she could help the nuns in the morning.

The rest of the group congregated in the entranceway after a second drink, Mrs. Mallard wandering around the library, as they said their farewells for the evening.

Gibbs grabbed his jacket from the coatrack and turned toward the evening's host. "Duck, thanks for having us."

The older man smiled at him fondly. "I am so glad you could make it, Jethro. And that lovely bottle of scotch you brought was a stellar nightcap. I only hope that Mother did not cause you too much trouble. She is growing more brazen in her advanced age."

Gibbs shook his head and clapped a hand on Ducky's shoulder. "No trouble," he assured, with a slight smile.

The front door opening made everyone pause in their goodbyes. Abby stepped through and offered a little wave to the group. Gibbs picked up on her nervous energy immediately, noting how her fingers were clenching and unclenching around her lace shawl.

"Uh, my car won't start. I checked the usual suspects – battery, plugs, carburetor, distributor cap – but everything is tip top. Can any of you give me a ride?"

Kate stepped up. "Do you need a jump? I've got cables."

Abby held up her hands. "No, I have an auto jumper and that didn't do anything besides make the hair on my arms stand on end. Woo, talk about a way to check your neuronal response."

DiNozzo pulled his keys from his coat pocket. "No problem, Abby. Your place is on my way."

With a wince, she shook her head, her pigtails sweeping past her shoulders. "Actually, I 'm staying with my friend, Amelia. Her place is on the opposite side of town."

Kate spoke up again. "I thought you were helping the nuns early tomorrow morning. That's got to be a forty-minute drive from Amelia's to the church. Why're you going all the way out there?"

Abby's eyes darted from the female agent to Gibbs and back again. "Um, well…"

Gibbs narrowed his eyes and spoke in a tone that demanded answers. "Abby?"

"Er, my moronic upstairs neighbors went out of town for the holiday and turned off their heat, probably in some misguided attempt to save a few bucks. You know how it was in the teens last night? Well, their pipes burst and water flooded from their kitchen down onto my ceiling and through my drywall. My place is uninhabitable for the next twenty-four hours while emergency maintenance fixes the mess," explained Abby, with a shrug. "I tried to crash at the convent, but the sisters didn't have any space available."

"Oh, that's awful, Abby," sympathized Kate. "But why don't you stay with one of us? We all live much closer to your place and the church."

With another wince, Abby opened her mouth to answer, but Gibbs interrupted. "She'll stay with me."

He picked up on the obvious relief in her eyes, but then there was an almost imperceptible upturn of her lips in triumph. She sprang forward and tackled him with a hug before he could process the potential meaning behind her reaction. "Thank you, thank you, thank you, Gibbs!"

Abby released him from the hug and turned toward the others. "I really do appreciate the offer though, Tony."

DiNozzo grinned. "Not a problem. Casa de DiNozzo is always available to you."

After another round of hugs, Abby grabbed her overnight bag from her incapacitated hearse and met Gibbs at his car. He held back until they were on the main D.C. drag before confronting her, noting that she was picking at her shawl nervously in the seat beside him.

"Why didn't you tell me about your place?"

Abby shrugged and tried to downplay the situation. "It happened just last night. Apartment damage is hardly a festive topic, and I didn't want to ruin Ducky's first Thanksgiving with all of us by bringing up something so irksome."

When Abby uncharacteristically did not immediately elaborate further, Gibbs waited her out. Two blocks and a semi-awkward stop at a traffic light later, she added, "Plus, this time of year I know you don't exactly want people invading your space."

"You're not people, Abbs."

In the low light he could barely make out the delighted expression that broke across her face. But it left as quickly as it had arrived, and Gibbs could see the beginnings of a frown as Abby resumed her attack on her outerwear.

A few heartbeats later, Abby asked rhetorically, "So, do you think that Ducky and Kate are gonna be ok?"

She continued on, anticipating his silence on the subject. "I mean, Dr. Byers totally led Ducky on. The Duck-man got all gussied up for her for their date, even had a special place that meant something to him for them to go. Even his bowtie was wicked dapper. And I know they weren't really involved for that long, but he was so disappointed, betrayed even."

Abby stopped playing with the edge of her shawl and placed her hands with palms facing up in her lap.

"And then Kate was wicked messed up by that whole 'suicide-by-cop' thing. Tony said that there was no other way that it could've gone down, that it was Kate's job to protect you. And I'm so glad that Kate did that, don't get me wrong," assured Abby. "But Kate feels really responsible. It's not enough that that Ensign thought there was no other way out, that he thought his mistakes were unrecoverable. It's just…" she trailed off, looking out the window.

Gibbs' curiosity got the better of him. "Just what?"

Abby turned to look at him with unexpected intensity. "But it makes me wonder if all our interactions with people, even the people we know, are just that. We make mistakes, we keep secrets, and we lie to try and help people or sometimes make things better. Or sometimes for selfish reasons. And all that ends up happening is that we hurt the people we care about. Is that really all that our relationships amount to?"

Gibbs got the sense that this conversation was less about Ducky and Kate, and more about Abby trying to put something in her own life in perspective. "What's this really about?"

She did not immediately answer, and Gibbs got the impression she was choosing her words with intention. "I'm just trying to be a good friend to Kate, to help her through this, you know, be there for her. She's not like you. This isn't something she's going to get over overnight. It's going to take time and support from friends, and I'm just trying to figure out how to do that."

"You'll do just fine. Kate likes ya and so does the rest of the team."

"I know," she agreed in a small voice. "I'm just worried that I might make a mistake and hurt the people that matter most." Abby bit her lip and turned back toward the window.

Puzzled, Gibbs allowed the rest of the drive to his house to pass in relative silence. He pulled into his drive, turned off the car, and had his hand on the door handle when Abby suddenly spoke up.

"Where did Rule 18 come from?"

Guessing she and DiNozzo must have discussed the rule in relation to the recent case, Gibbs spoke frankly. "Kate does not need to seek forgiveness for covering a fellow agent. I'd have done the same thing in her place."

Abby cocked her head to the side. "Yeah, but what made you decide it should be a Gibbs rule?"

With a sigh, he admitted, "It's a long story and it's late."

"Okay, another time then," she acquiesced without any resistance, opening her door and exiting the car, leaving him thoroughly baffled. Abby had been after him for weeks about all kinds of personal information and now she was suddenly fine with his reluctance to share? Or had that been disappointment laced through her voice?

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Gibbs was in his basement, not focused at all upon advancing the current stage of boat construction. Instead, he was busy listening to the creak of the upstairs floorboards and the sound of running water as Abby prepared for bed.

Her question about the origins of Rule 18 was nagging at him, but he ignored it in favor of considering her concern over being a good friend to Kate. That she would doubt her abilities to empathize with or support one of the team suggested deeper insecurities. Or maybe it was just a snap reaction to the latest case. Either way, not good.

But her fear over the potential effect of secrets and lies on friendships especially caught his attention. Gibbs knew there were a few of his own that would likely be deal-breakers in the future. Not just case-related lies, but the bigger personal secrets, like Shannon and Kelly. Abby would see it as an intentional omission in their relationship, and would definitely take it personally, assuming he did not trust her. He did not really care how the rest of the people in his life would react if they knew – Ducky was likely an exception – but for some reason Abby's reaction truly mattered.

Gibbs' bladder reminded him of all the alcohol he had imbibed that evening, so he climbed to the second floor to use the head. On the way back to the basement, the light under the guest bedroom door made him pause. He placed his right hand on the door frame and raised his left to knock. But it hovered inches from the door's surface as he waged an internal war over the purpose of his knocking. Should he divulge some of his secrets to prevent future heartache for Abby and him? Or should he offer up the story behind Rule 18 as a peace offering?

Unbidden, images of Abby from his dreams sprung forward, and he pulled his hand back in shame. Gibbs turned away from the door and returned to the basement, intent on spending the rest of the night marinating in bourbon and his own cowardice.

* * *

A/N: Forgot to mention that all errors are mine as I have no beta.


End file.
